


Gracie

by theramblinrose



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mandrea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28372608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theramblinrose/pseuds/theramblinrose
Summary: Mandrea, AU.  Oneshot.  Far from being the worst thing that ever happened to her, Merle Dixon was the best.  (Christmas fic)
Relationships: Andrea/Merle Dixon, Merle Dixon/Andrea Harrison
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Gracie

AN: This is a little oneshot for a request/prompt that was made on Tumblr. If you have any, you can drop them here or in my Tumblr inbox.

I own nothing from the Walking Dead.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! 

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“You ready?” Gracie called out. “You ready, Daddy?” 

“Come ‘ere, Gracie. You the one ain’t ready. You don’t got no pants on. How you gonna read about Sant-y Claus an’ you ain’t got no pants on?” 

Andrea laughed to herself and gathered up the blanket and pillow that she’d promised to take to the living room for Merle and Gracie to snuggle up with. Merle’s argument might be, on the whole, void of logic, but it was perfectly logical for a two-year-old. Gracie found most everything her father said to be most insightful—and Andrea wasn’t sure if that spoke more about her husband or their daughter. 

“Mommy!” 

“I’m in here, sweetheart,” Andrea called out. “Bring Daddy!” 

Andrea didn’t have to tell her twice. Gracie’s squeal echoed loudly through the house, and it was followed by Merle’s laughter and Gracie’s equally happy laughter. Merle rounded the corner from the hallway carrying Gracie over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes. He’d combed her hair, but her loose curls still looked unkempt—they always did—and they were damp on the ends from her bath. They fell in her face when she looked at Andrea and grinned.

“I got Daddy!” She said, her words slightly stilted by laughter. 

Merle swung the little girl around with the one arm that had been holding her on his shoulder. He was plenty strong enough for such an action, but it still made Andrea’s heart almost stop entirely in her chest. 

“That right, huh? You got Daddy? It ain’t Daddy that’s got you, you don’t reckon?” Merle playfully growled. Gracie, already, could tell the difference between when her Daddy was mad and when he was playing. She howled with laughter at his teasing.

“OK—OK,” Andrea said. “Merle—I think it’s time to start settling down, don’t you? Miss Gracie’s got to sleep some tonight so that Santa can come.” 

“And Rudolph!” Gracie said, suddenly perking up.

“Rudolph’s going to guide the sleigh,” Andrea agreed. “Merle…” She gestured toward his recliner. He sat down and she adjusted pillows for him and for Gracie, who he propped in his lap. For a moment, the little toe-headed girl scrambled up to her feet to stand perched on her Daddy’s lap, but Merle wrestled her down into his arms pretty quickly.

“Your Uncle Daryl said he was deer huntin’ tonight,” Merle said. “I sure hope he don’t get Rudolph.”

“Merle!” Andrea scolded loudly as soon as Gracie squealed with unhappiness at the possibility.

Merle laughed but quickly snuggled his daughter against him.

“Don’t’cha worry,” he said. “I’m just messin’ with you. Your Uncle Daryl ain’t gonna get none of the sleigh pullin’ deers. Besides—everybody knows reindeer meat’s too tough to eat.” 

“Mama?” Gracie asked, her voice slightly shaky.

“It’s true,” she said. “We don’t eat reindeer. Tried it one year and it was too tough.” 

“That was Santa’s old reindeer—Kebab. Only you ain’t heard of him ‘cause your Aunt Carol cooked him up. Didn’t make hardly nothin’ worth eatin’. Since then, we don’t hunt off Santa’s sleigh.” 

Gracie looked only slightly troubled by this. Dixons, on the whole, had to be resilient. Andrea covered both her daughter and her husband with the Christmas quilt. She kissed Gracie’s forehead and smoothed her hair.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” she assured her. “Santa’s going to be just fine and he’ll find his way here—and back out again—without any problems.” 

“I’ma get my baby?” Gracie asked.

“You been good all year?” Merle asked. “You know how that works.” Gracie nodded her head at him vigorously. She had been good. She’d been just as good as any sweet little two-year-old could be, especially if she happened to have a pretty wide streak of Dixon inside her. “Well—then I reckon you got you a good chance of gettin’ you a sweet lil’ baby to nuss.” 

“Well, now, wait just a minute,” Andrea said. “Gracie—sweetheart—which baby are you talking about? Your doll or your brother?” 

“My baby brother,” Gracie said. 

“Your brother’s not going to be here until February, Gracie. Remember? Santa can’t bring babies. Not that kind of baby. They just have to grow until they’re ready to be born. Remember?” 

The way they’d sold the new baby to Gracie as a wonderful, fabulous, amazing thing was to tell her that her baby brother was, practically, her baby. He was a special gift for her. She would get to be such a big girl, and she would get to help with him so much. It would be wonderful.

They’d almost sold him too well. Now Gracie hardly wanted anything as much as she wanted her baby brother to be born—and her baby brother still needed a couple more months before his parents wanted him to be born. They wanted to be sure, after all, that he had all the baking time he could get, and needed, to come into the world just as happy and healthy as Gracie had two years before.

Gracie frowned and crossed her arms across her chest. Merle laughed and touched her bottom lip—which was in danger of rolling quite far out—with his fingertip.

“But you might get you a pretty little baby doll to play with,” Merle said. “An’ you gonna like that a whole lot, I’m sure. Ain’t you gonna be happy with a lil’ baby doll to love an’ nuss? Practice for your baby brother?” Merle leaned down and kissed the side of Gracie’s head and the little girl smiled to herself at her Daddy’s affection. “Hey—you know what they say, don’t’cha? Don’t you pout, now, or Santa might not come an’ leave you nothin’ but coals an’ switches.” 

Gracie laughed because, at the end of his words, Merle made the gobbling sound he normally did, close to her ear, that always sent her into odd peals of laughter. Andrea assumed that thinking her Daddy was the most hilarious man alive was just some kind of father-daughter rite of passage or something of the like.

“I’m going to—get a few things ready for Christmas,” Andrea said, smoothing Gracie’s hair again and passing Merle the “Night Before Christmas” book from which he would read. 

Merle caught her hand and worked it in his. He winked at her and smiled when she smiled at him.

“You alright?” He asked.

Andrea smiled and nodded.

“I’m perfect, Merle.” 

“He OK?” 

“He’s perfect, too.” 

“Lean on down here an’ give me some sugar, Sugar,” Merle commanded, his voice taking on the velvety quality that could practically cause Andrea to melt into a puddle. She did lean down, and he kissed her fully. Gracie giggled—there was very little she liked in life as much as she liked to see true affection between her parents. 

Andrea placed a kiss on her daughter’s cheek, and then her forehead, and she tucked them both into the chair. 

Andrea hid a moment, just in the hallway, and waited before she padded down the hallway to wrap the final few Christmas presents. She heard Merle’s voice as he read to Gracie from the Christmas book. She eased carefully around the corner, to avoid being seen, so that she could capture a moment on her camera—a moment that Gracie would someday treasure and that she and Merle would, assuredly, cherish forever. She found Merle holding the baby girl close, reading to her from the book, as Gracie relaxed against him, clearly mesmerized by her Daddy’s words and the magic of Christmas. 

With a photo captured, Andrea slipped down the hall with a lump in her throat, running her hand over the bump where their sweet little boy rolled as though he, too, were searching for just the right position to indulge in a long winter’s nap after hearing his Daddy recite the sweet poem so beautifully.

People had warned Andrea, when she’d first started seeing Merle Dixon, that he was no good, and that he’d never be any good for her.

They couldn’t have possibly been more wrong, though. 

Merle might call her his angel, and he might swear she’d saved his life by giving him a purpose and a family all his own, but Merle had given her everything she’d ever wanted, too. Far from being the worst thing that could ever happen to her, Merle Dixon had been the best.


End file.
